


Brass boots and buttonhooks

by Rainbowfootsteps



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Western, M/M, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowfootsteps/pseuds/Rainbowfootsteps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred's job: to kill Ivan Braginskey before he can kill European nobility, all three of them on a three day train ride through the wild west. Easy, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Briefing and Briefcases

**Author's Note:**

> the name 'brass boots and buttonhooks' is based off the Phyllis Johnson book title, 'black boots and buttonhooks'.

There wasn’t much in the world that confounded Alfred. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head in any situation. This matter, however, was different. This was cordial conversation. Alfred felt like screaming as he smiled pleasantly at the peppy young woman at the desk in front of where he stood. She’d sucked him into it with a comment about the weather - sunny as always, what a surprise - and now the conversation was on books of all things. A small badge declared the woman’s name as Penelope. He fidgeted with his hat.

“I’m a fan of the Ingrid Letterdale series.” Penelope said with a smile on her red lips. Her fingers danced over the typewriter in front of her. How did she hold a conversation while typing? Alfred could barely do each individually. He realised he’d been silent far too long. He made an affirmative noise.

“My sister also enjoys those books.” He replied. He didn’t have a sister, but he’d never heard of the Ingrid whatever-dale series. The brown striped wallpaper was almost the same shade as Penelope’s locks of hair. It was rather irritating that her hair was a few shades lighter. The wooden desk was yet another almost identical shade of brown.  
“Your sister has good taste.” Penelope simpered. She vaguely reminded Alfred of a christmas decoration. Her garish red and white top was probably the cause of this. Or perhaps it was her perfume that smelled like peppermint and something else Alfred couldn’t identify. Something pinged on Penelope’s desk and she glanced down.

“Mrs. Héderváry will see you now.” She said, her smile somehow growing larger. Alfred noticed that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. He tried not to look too relieved as he hurried out of the waiting room.

Elizabeta Héderváry was nothing like Penelope, which was such a wonderful discovery that Alfred almost wept. Her office was rather sinister. Gone was the sickly sweet smell of the waiting room, replaced with the faint scent of gunpowder. Adorned on the beige walls were all manner of weaponry, from old fashioned flintlock muskets to tesla guns and even a large hydroelectric blaster. Elizabeta was still the commanding presence in the room despite all the ornaments in the room. Even her black dress, with silver corset and feather plumes, demanded respect and a certain element of wariness. Her severe green eyes watched as Alfred slowly sat down in front of her. She leaned forward and pushed a folder across the desk to Alfred. He raised his eyebrows and picked it up.

“I’ve heard that you’re very good at your job.” Elizabeta finally broke the silence.

“I like to think so.” Alfred replied with a grin. He picked up the folder and flicked through it. A black and white photograph caught his eye.

“I assume bounty hunting is made easy with that electric gauntlet.” She commented. Alfred’s gauntlet was invaluable - capable of incapacitating a man at three metres, and killing at one, with bursts of lightning-like electricity. It resided around his left hand, the brass outside shining up at him.

“Well, it’s not all about the weapon, ma’am. Not getting killed also makes it easier.” He leant back on his chair.

“So, I’m guessing this guy stole something from you, and you want him jailed.” He said, holding up the photo. Elizabeta’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“This man is a hired hitman. His target is the european noble Lili Vogel. You need to protect this woman with your life, and kill the hitman before he can kill her.” She growled. The man in the photo was nothing special. He was tall, north european most likely, with a white scarf wrapped around his neck. Alfred nodded slowly.

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

“Eight thousand credits when you come back with proof of his death, two thousand now.” She replied. Alfred nodded again.

“Fair enough. Where will I find him?” He asked.

“He’s going to be on the west train to Leadhammer tomorrow. That’s a three day journey so you’ll be able to kill him on the ride.” She said, with no hint as to how she knew this. Alfred grinned.

“I’ll be back in a week with his scarf. Not like you’ll find a scarf like that here in Gyres.”

“The two thousand?” He flashed Elizabeta his trademark smile, all teeth. She opened a drawer of her desk and pulled out a small briefcase. Alfred tried not to look condescending as he unclipped it and peeked inside. Copper coins shined back at him.

“Thank you for your business, ma’am.” With this final comment, he clipped up the briefcase, tipped his cowboy hat, and walked out of the room with a confident smile on his face.

He didn’t even look at Penelope as he walked through the waiting room and outside into the blazing sun. Gyres was its usual dusty self. A small messenger bot buzzed through the sky above him, sparks flying from its exhaust pipe. Alfred immediately started to walk towards the saloon, spurs clicking with every step. It wouldn’t be an easy job. An assassin working in a train was either an idiot or a professional, and Alfred could guess which was more likely. Still, it would mean he would be able to keep tabs on - had he caught the name of the man he was to kill? Alfred decided he would call him scarf until a proper label could be applied. He would be able to keep tabs on Scarf no matter where he went. Plus, the train would have buffet dinners. Perfect for surveillance, and for brandy snaps. Alfred’s stomach made a burbling noise so he quickened his pace.

The saloon was depressingly dark and dusty. A few old men played cards in a corner, the clear winner being a potbellied man with a massive grey beard. A pile of red poker chips sat in front of him. A young man, a robot the size of a rat balanced on his shoulder, sat at the counter with a drink in his hand. The robot was green and battered, with a cube shaped body and a clockwork key sticking out of its side. From somewhere came the faint tinkling of a painfully out of tune piano. Alfred sauntered to the counter and slid onto a barstool.

“Copper blood.” Alfred ordered, placing his hat on the counter. The man with the robot looked at him through dirty goggles. Alfred ignored him. His mind was still on the job ahead. He’d need new equipment - his gauntlet needed a quick repair and his shirt had an ugly hole in the sleeve. That and he needed a shower. But there was no apprehension in his musing, only confidence. This was a textbook hunt. What could go wrong?


	2. Boarding the Hargate

Alfred liked trains. The Hargate, in particular, was one of his favourites. Not because it was modern, oh no. Because it was ancient. Parts of metal clearly from scrapyards, steam billowing from massive exhaust pipes snaking around windows on its sides. It hovered above the bronze track, wavering up and down slightly. Alfred breathed in the oily scent and grinned.

“First class ticket, please.” He said to the ruddy man at the ticket booth. Five credits and twenty carbytes were exchanged for a scrappy piece of paper declaring ‘FIRST CLASS’. Then Alfred picked up an information pamphlet, sat down on a bench and perused the bustle around the train station. The sun overhead meant that hats and parasols were everywhere. The sandy ground was host to all kinds of travellers - fur hunters, mechanics, the odd alchemist robed in brown. Alfred fitted right in with his cowboy boots and red bandanna around his neck. A burst of static crackled in the air as a speaker turned on.

“Would all passengers bzzt Hargate bzzt board in the bzzt ten minutes.” The barely audible voice announced. Alfred slowly stood up and strolled to the train doors. As the door started to hiss closed behind him, he took a double take and peered into the crowd. There! The distinctive long scarf. Alfred craned his neck for another look but the door was annoyingly well oiled, sliding into place and refusing him another glance.

First class was at the other end of the train and the carriages were already starting to fill with people.

“So sorry, excuse me, whoops, sorry!” Alfred winced as his boot stepped on a woman’s foot. She glared at him but said nothing. After far too much jostling and shoving, he was at the end of the carriage. This door was stiff and refused to move. Typical. He gave it a massive wrench and it screeched open. He shot a winning smile at the rest of the carriage, and if looks could kill, he would have been in the afterlife after the amount of scowls he received.

By the time he made it to first class, Alfred sported a new bruise on his arm from banging into a door in an attempt to open it. He inhaled the welcome scent of swanky perfume and greeted the red velvet walls with a weary sigh. Now to find a cabin to claim as his own. The first two he poked his head were taken.

“Third time lucky.” He muttered, sliding open the thin copper door. Jackpot! Alfred valiantly managed not to whoop in delight as he walked into the cabin. Two beds that could be converted to seats lined the edge of the thin room. Between them, by the window, was a small table. Alfred tossed his satchel under a bed and flopped down on it. The cool blanket was a wonderful change from the dry heat.

“How the hell am I going to kill him without getting thrown in jail myself?” Alfred murmured to the grey ceiling. He wasn’t exactly playing by the rules as a vigilante assassin, so deaths had to be quiet and out of the way of prying eyes. Something that wasn’t easy on a cramped as hell train.

“Excuse me, is this bed taken?” Alfred looked up and his eyes widened.

“No, it’s all yours.” He replied. The man smiled and walked into the cabin, taking off his scarf and putting it on the bed.

In Alfred’s mind fireworks were going off and his subconscious was doing a tango. What a stroke of luck! He could kill him now and hop off the train instantly. As the man sat down Alfred flexed the fingers on his left hand. He lifted it, curled his hand into a fist and fired. Click. What the hell? Nothing had happened. Alfred panicked, opened his palm and smiled.

“Alfred F. Jones. Pleasure to meet you.” He said, internally screaming.

“Ivan Braginskey.” The man replied, shaking his hand heartily. Phew. But what the hell was wrong with his gauntlet? No time to ponder that now. He eyed Ivan as inconspicuously as he could. Unusual light grey hair and purple eyes, probably caused by the genetic explorations of alchemist ancestors. A rather large nose, but not unattractive.

“So what takes you to Leadhammer?” Alfred asked, lying down on the bed and resting his head on his hands behind him.

“I am an astronomer. There is a conference in Leadhammer that I am attending.” Ivan explained. His voice had a north European accent, but Alfred, being not that worldly, couldn’t place it.

“Astronomer, yeah? As a kid I loved the stars. Still do, just don’t know much about them. I’m a ranch owner, not much call for astral knowledge when you’re breaking a horse.” He said. Ivan smiled.

“They are certainly beautiful. The sky here, it is so clear, it is an astronomer’s dream. Possibly even greater than Russia in the night time.” Alfred wondered if Ivan knew jack shit about the stars. But he figured prying into that would prompt Ivan to pry into his fake lifestyle, and Alfred could barely ride a horse, let alone break one.

“If you’d excuse me, I’ll be off to locate the little boys’ room.” Alfred flashed Ivan another winning grin and sauntered out of the cabin.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit.” Alfred muttered, sitting on a toilet lid. He gave his gauntlet’s power cell a sharp tap, and inspected it. There was a suspicious smell of burning coming from the index finger, so he popped open its small hatch to reveal the circuitry inside.

“Shit!” The regulator had burnt out, so when he tried to fire electricity, all that came out was a tiny spark and a quiet clicking sound. How was he going to kill Ivan without his gauntlet? He was too big to overpower. Maybe he could steal a knife during dinner and cut his throat at night? Hmm. Everyone would know it was him. And jumping out of the train was useless, there was just dust for miles. But wait - the train passed Tartucket on the morning of the third day. He vaguely remembered that from the information leaflet at the station. He’d kill him on the second night. Until then, he just had to find Miss Vogel and hopefully keep her alive.


	3. Dying inside as we wine and dine

Lili Vogel was what one might call ‘poncey’, but her sweet demeanour more than made up for it. Her tiny figure took up no space in her cabin as she stared wistfully out the window. It had only been a day, but she already missed Vash. She was always by her big brother’s side - she felt painfully alone without him. She tugged at the lace hem of her purple striped dress. She could see her reflection in the window. Her blond hair, cut short by her own delicate and unsteady hands, reminded her of Vash. She thought back to their last conversation.

‘We’ll be reunited at Leadhammer, then we’ll fly back to Switzerland by blimp. I love you, Lili, I’ll see you soon.’ Always so sure of himself. Lili fingered the emerald necklace around her throat. If only she could be that brave.

 

Alfred was mostly calm by the time he left the bathroom. Sliding the door closed behind him, he looked around the carriage. The hall on one side was thin and the bedrooms on the other were separated by thin wooden walls. Alfred strolled down the corridor, casually glancing into the door windows as he went. Old man, mother and daughter, a woman who looked more robot than human. His own cabin, empty. Empty? Shit! Ivan was on the move. Alfred started to race down the corridor as fast as his legs would take him. He suddenly froze, turned, and walked back into his room. He gently took his hat off and placed it on his bed. Couldn't go walking about inside a train with his hat on! Then he ran out of the carriage like his butt was on fire. If Ivan killed Lili before he found him, old Héderváry would roast Alfred over an open fire.

“Hey, partner. You seen a tall guy, white hair, scarf?” Alfred was dying inside with every minute that Ivan wasn’t in his sights. For such a big guy, he sure did go unnoticed really well. He’d asked everyone he’d passed, and yet nobody had seen scarfie go past. The waiter thought for a moment, his egglike figure blocking most of the hallway.  
“Mm, yes, I think so.” He huffed, with a great exhalation through his nostrils at every word.

“He’s in the dining carriage. Looking for some lady.” The waiter gave a final nose puff and started to waddle away, a silver platter balanced on his hand.

“Right, thanks.” Alfred said to the already receding figure. Shit!

Getting to the dining carriage was no walk in the park. Alfred had to battle his way through a congested hallway of swanky old women trying to find a lost poodle. On his way out he saw it hiding in the overhead luggage area, but decided to let it enjoy its momentary freedom. The dining carriage itself was ridiculously lavish, a huge contrast from the dim saloons Alfred frequented. Varnished wood chairs and tables were adorned with ornamental candles of all shapes and colours, boasting the candlemaker’s skill. A chandelier rocked precariously overhead, which Alfred couldn’t help but think was a safety hazard. The walls couldn’t hide the trains derelict condition, however. Pipes and copper patchwork poked through the wallpaper. But where was Ivan? Alfred looked about nervously. There! And who was that he was walking towards? Alfred was tempted to say several things that would give him a one-way ticket to hell, but settled with speedwalking down the middle of the carriage. Ivan was just a few metres away from Lili Vogel, who was so posh that her table proclaimed ‘reserved for Miss L. Vogel’. Alfred bustled past her and planted himself firmly between Ivan and miss Vogel.

“Ivan! Partner!” Alfred said with a slightly forced country twang. He glanced out the window. The sun was setting over the horizon, covered with saguaro silhouettes. Ivan looked at him with a noted lack of annoyance. Damn, he was good.

“Have dinner with me, won’t ya? Haven’t found a pal that shares my ast-ro-nomic-al interests like you do!” He said, his thumbs jammed into his belt. Was he overdoing the wild west theme? Did he sound fake? If he did, it wasn’t on Ivan’s face. A small smile was instead.

“I would love to talk about the stars with you over dinner.” Ivan replied. Alfred sighed internally, relieved.

“Alright then! Hey, mister, what do you do to get a table around here?”

“Sky tonight must be an astronomer’s dream.” Alfred commented, ducking his head to see more stars out of the small window. Ivan nodded slightly. Slow waltz music hummed quietly in the background, played off scratched and muted records. It only served to increase Alfred’s twitchiness.

“Deserts are perfect places for seeing the stars.” Ivan said.

“The absence of light pollution means the stars are crystal clear in the sky. It’s only you and the constellations.”  
Alfred grinned. He almost felt bad for killing a man so passionate about his fake job. He rested his elbows on the table, a bowl of whatever-the-hell-that-is soup in front of him. A translucent vase sat between them, the purple-tinged glass containing violets, slightly withered.

“You must have a wonderful view of the night sky on your farm.” Alfred could have sworn he saw a calculating glint in Ivan’s eye.

“Ranch, actually.” He said, mentally praising himself for noticing this.

“And I’ll say. Sky looks like it’s been punched full of holes by a needle. I used to have a telescope, too. Old brass thing, barely held together. But when I looked at the moon through it…” Alfred paused, a smile on his face. He really had owned a little brass telescope. He’d just used it as a kid on the roof of his dad’s casino.

“It was like looking at a whole new world, the world I belonged in.” He finished, taking a brave spoonful of his soup. The strange meat didn’t taste too bad.

“I don’t believe any of that astrology crap though. I mean, you hear what they say about Cancers? Doesn’t suit me at all!” He added with a laugh. Ivan grinned.

“If you even say the word ‘astrology’ near a group of astronomers, you’re likely to lose an eye.” They laughed over this for some time, the tense air forgotten. As their wining and dining went on, Alfred found himself drawn to Ivan. He couldn’t explain it. Someone who finally talked to him as an equal instead of a disposable hitman - even though Ivan was most likely spouting shit he’d read in a magazine while waiting for the dentist. It was refreshing, to say the least. As the first other passengers started to drift out of the carriage, Alfred also departed for ‘some light reading before bed’. Lili Vogel was nowhere in sight. As he walked back to his carriage, he felt quite a lot more peaceful than he had in a long time. He had nothing to worry about. Simply stay up longer than Ivan to put off any late night murder attempts, then catch forty winks after he was sound asleep. Then tomorrow would be a breeze.


	4. Three's a crowd

Alfred woke up with a start, his eyes burning. His ‘vintage cars of the eastern isles’ book lay on the floor, upside down. He blinked a few times and realised he was sitting on his bed, back resting against the shuddering wall. Darkness enveloped everything and the only sound was the monotonous humming of the train - he was so used to the distant rumble of the engine that he almost didn’t notice. Slowly his mind started to wonder why Ivan’s bed was empty while the glowing clock on Alfred’s bedside table said it was past midnight. Oh, shit. He’d fallen asleep before Ivan! He muttered a few halfhearted insults into the darkness, then forced himself to stand up. Argh! His back felt like he’d been leaning against a cheese grater. A flaming cheese grater. He had to go looking for him, but he’d need a disguise.

“I’m not that religious, but god, now would be a great time to help a pal out…” Alfred mumbled, pushing open the door to the cabin next door. A rotund man with a scraggly beard snored quietly in a sagging bed. Alfred held his breath as he tiptoed into the room. His spurs jingled slightly but the man didn’t stir. Bloody hell, it was impossible to see in the dim light. After patting around under the bed for a few moments, his hand felt a handle. He pulled the suitcase out and flicked it open as quietly as possible.

“A…. Agnes, not the kettle…” The man mumbled, rolling over. Alfred rooted around inside the bag, then pulled out a garment. Perfect.

Alfred had never felt more stupid. Covered by a too-big alchemist’s robe with the hood up, he reminded himself of a snake he’d seen once. It had become stuck in the middle of moulting and was just lying there, in dire need of shedding loose skin. With a sigh Alfred started to walk down the carriage as quickly as he dared. Vogel’s cabin was mostly likely near the caboose, where only the richest could afford to ride. He galloped through the carriages, tripping over the robe several times before he made it to the ‘penthouse’ carriages. God, they were so tacky. Everything was muted shades of mauve and gold and the lamps were ridiculously decorated. Alfred slowly let his eyes adjust to the change in light. Wait, what was that figure standing outside a door, hand resting on the knob? It lacked the scarf, but Alfred was sure it was Ivan. The figure looked his way and Alfred was taken aback. It wasn’t Ivan. A lithe silhouette, too short and thin to be the broad-shouldered Ivan, stared at Alfred. Then he was off like a bullet, running towards the other end of the carriage.

“Hey!” Alfred hissed, running after them. His robe slowed him down and he had to hold it up like a dress as he ran. The person disappeared out the door, and Alfred followed.

The outside air was chilly and wind whipped Alfred’s face as he stood on the lip of the carriage. The next carriage was so close he could easily touch it. The sky above was black and peppered with stars. He looked up to see the person disappear onto the top of the carriage.

“Get back here!” Alfred growled, hauling himself up the rickety ladder to the roof. It was brighter out here with the full moon shining down on them, and Alfred could see the figure in more detail. They were wearing some sort of head covering, and the rest of their body was hidden in a professional-looking black uniform. The train roof shook under him as Alfred inched towards the figure.

“Who the hell are you?” Alfred called, trying to make his voice sound deeper than usual. The figure said nothing, but reached for their thigh. Oh, jesus, they had a gun. Get the fuck out of here! His brain screamed. But then Alfred saw another figure appear from the other side of the roof. It too was dressed in black, but from the body shape Alfred guessed Ivan had finally joined the party. The other figure had seen Ivan, too, and their hand hovered over their gun in hesitation. For a few moments the only sound was the clicking of the track beneath them and the hum of the train’s engine. Then the lithe figure jumped off the edge of the train.

Alfred stumbled over to the edge of the train and glanced down. An open window below him. He looked up to Ivan. Ivan’s hand was raised. A greeting? Alfred didn’t wait to find out. He followed in the thin figure’s footsteps, hopping off the side of the train, one hand gripped firmly onto the edge of the roof. He flew through the window and landed with a thump in the dining cart. Just great. Just fucking great. Now, not only did he need to be wary of Ivan, but another mystery creepo. No time to think about that now. Alfred ran through the dining cart as fast as he could, robe snagging on a chair halfway through. He replaced the robe to its owner, with new oil stains, and hopped into his own bed. A few minutes later Alfred heard light footsteps. He screwed his eyes shut and thought about what had happened. For one thing, Ivan had saved his life. Why? And what did Creepo want with Lili Vogel? He wanted to go back to Lili’s cabin, but whenever he opened his eye just a crack, he saw Ivan reading. Did this guy never sleep? Head buzzing with questions, Alfred fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Alfred felt like a wrestler had walked over him with iron boots. His muscles were tight and sore from an uncomfortable night. Alfred decided he didn’t like train rides so much anymore. He sat up, located his glasses and pushed them onto his face. Ivan was still reading the same book. Had he actually gone to sleep.  
“Are you alright, my friend?” Ivan asked with raised eyebrows. Alfred stared blankly for a second, then nodded and rubbed his back.

“Not used to train rides.” He said with a wry smile. Ivan gently placed the book dow.

“If you would permit me, I know a little about massage techniques.” He suggested. Alfred raised an eyebrow. Ivan had no reason to suspect him, assuming he hadn’t recognised him on the top of the train, so this probably wasn’t a ploy to stab him in the back with a deadly massage (pun intended). And Alfred’s back ached.

“Jack of all trades, eh?” He said with a grin. Ivan notioned for him to sit on his bed next to him and Alfred complied. Large but gentle hands were placed on his back, gently working out the knots in his back. Alfred had to admit, this was the best massage he’d ever had. Not that he’d ever had a massage before.

“I hope you have a more restful night this evening.” Ivan said. Alfred thought about his plan to kill Ivan tonight.

“Yeah, here’s hoping.”


	5. Love at first night

Alfred sat in the dining cart, pondering the universe over a bowl of Captain Steamo’s nutty crunch cereal. Why did the pink flakes always drift to the top, while the blue flakes sank to the bottom and became a disgusting sludge? It was a race against time. To eat the cereal at the perfect pace, to ensure the crispness of the flakes but preserve the slight softness inside, was an art. Clearly not one Alfred had mastered, going by the limp almond slice sliding off his spoon.

“Is this seat taken?” Alfred looked up in surprise, jolted from his musing. Then he felt his cheeks go red. Standing before him was a painfully handsome man, with ruffled blond hair and piercing green eyes. A black waistcoat accentuated his slim figure, and the scent of icy winter lingered in Alfred’s nose. The only imperfection on the man’s face was a slight scar below his hairline.

“Uh - yes - right, sure.” He smiled, finding himself unable to look away. There was the slightest feeling of deja vu in those bright green eyes. He tugged at his bandanna slightly, and gestured at the window.

“View hasn’t changed all day.” He commented. The man nodded, a slightly bemused smile on his lips.

“It’s much more pleasant in the drawing carriage. I’ve been spending most of my trip there. However I’ve had no accompaniment. Would you care to join me for a game of chess?” The man’s voice was refined, articulate.

“I’d love to, mr..?”

“Just call me Arthur, please.”

“Have I met you somewhere, Arthur?”

“I don’t think so. I would have remembered.”

“For a ranch owner, you play chess like a nobleman.” Arthur quipped, moving his knight. Alfred leaned back in his leather seat, scrutinising the board.

“Not much else to do in long winter nights.” He replied, gently pushing a pawn forward. Arthur leaned his chins on his hands, watching Arthur intently. Alfred stared back. He couldn’t keep his eyes off those delicate fingers, laced in between one another. His wry smile, knowing all and telling nothing. A woman in a large ruffled dress swanned past with a disdainful sniff.

“Not right in this day and age to use things like that.” She remarked primly. Alfred didn’t bother trying to understand what she meant. Arthur gave her a cold look, and she quickly bustled away. Arthur moved his bishop, and removed one of Alfred’s pawns from the board.

“Where are you from?” Alfred asked. He moved his queen drastically, to the other side of the board.

“I’m from London. When the shares in robotics fell, I decided to look further afield. The United States of America seemed the perfect option. Your steam-driven animatronics are the best in the world, after all.” Arthur moved his king. Alfred moved a pawn.

“But everything is so much noisier here. The lights are brighter, the parties are longer, the clothes are flashier. I came to the hargate for a sense of home. England, after all, has the Titan, and the Persepolis, both of which I have been on.” Alfred recognised the names at once. Massive trains, alike only in their vast power and size. World renowned for being the pinnacle of vehicular efficiency and style.

“You Americans really are funny. You love the stars, but are so down to earth… checkmate.” Alfred looked down at the board. His king lay on the board, replaced by its black adversary.

By lunchtime, Alfred’s former amazement at the man’s looks hadn’t worn off. He’d barely touched his food, instead opting to chat endlessly about trains and stars and what was london like, must have been cooler than this, Alfred never tired of the conversation. And Arthur didn’t seem to, either. After lunch, back in the drawing room, Alfred saw Lili Vogel in there with them, reading a thin novel. Ivan passed by too, his violet eyes giving Arthur a sharp glance.

“Alfred. Alfred?” Snapped out of an absent gaze, Alfred looked at Arthur inquiringly.

“It’s getting late. Care to come to my cabin for a drink?” Arthur asked. A little warning beep went off in Alfred’s head. He should really be checking on Vogel. But just one drink wouldn’t hurt. It was almost like he couldn’t say no to Arthur’s request. He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“My pleasure.”

Arthur’s cabin was in the luxury carriage. The single bed was ornate beyond belief, as were the windows and gently swinging chandelier. A green powered-down robot sat on the bedside table. A bottle of wine and two glasses lay on the bed, placed in a wicker basket. Arthur gently undid his waistcoat, sighing slightly from the relief of not having to wear the tight outer layer. His smart white shirt was no less handsome.

“Alfred… I have to admit..” Arthur murmured, placing a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. The hair’s on Alfred’s neck stood up.

“I, uh, pal, I don’t think -” Before he could protest any more, Arthur’s lips were locked on his.

“I knew you were remarkable the moment I saw you.” He whispered. Alfred relaxed into the embrace. Arthur lingered, then broke away.

“Wine?” He asked, already pouring Alfred a glass.

“I’d rather be tasting your lips.” He said with a grin, taking a sip.

Alfred’s eyes blinked open. It was dark. He’d awoken to the sound of someone leaving the cabin. Arthur? When had he fallen asleep? What had happened? Arthur was an incredible kisser. Oh, his glass had fallen. He was splayed out on his back on the bed. He reached for the glass on the ground below him, but started to slip over the edge of the bed. With a plonk his head hit the carpet. He was looking under the bed, but his limbs were too tired to move him. For a moment he lay there, blood rushing to his head and eyes adjusting to the dark. A bottle was under the bed, but it wasn’t wine. He waited for his eyes to adjust more. It had a heart shaped stopper. Oh, shit. Now he knew what it was. Erdo’s love potion, three credits a bottle. Make anyone fall in love with you using a single hair off their head! They won’t be able to stay away from you. Used by unhappy middle-aged women willing to look past the illegal aspect, and, apparently, Arthur. Slowly this dawned on Alfred. He looked at his gauntlet. He looked at the bottle. He thought about Ivan. He especially thought about the slim figure he’d seen the night before, which now that he thought about it was rather the same size as Arthur.

“Shit!”


	6. A series of unforeseen events

The cabin was swimming in front of his eyes as Alfred stood up. What the hell was that stuff made out of? He took a deep breath, and his head cleared a little. The smell of icy winter - the smell, Alfred now realised, of the potion - was sharp in his nostrils. Arthur must have worn the potion as a perfume, the bastard. Alfred walked out of the cabin with as little wobbling as possible, but he had to take a break in the hall to regain his balance. Every moment he spent like this, was another that Lili Vogel was in danger. If she wasn’t already dead. Alfred cursed under his breath as he walked through the carriage, fighting off waves of nausea. Goddamnit, how had he managed to fuck his job up entirely? Go in, kill Ivan, get out. If his bloody gauntlet hadn’t broken, he’d already be on cloud nine in a highfalutin hotel, sipping on a martini as he rode the wave of credits as long as it would take him. But nooo, instead there were two assassins! Fuck everything, that wasn’t in the job description!

By the time Alfred got through the dining cart to Vogel’s carriage, his head had cleared for the most part. He could easily enough ignore the purple spots drifting through his vision. There was nobody outside the cabin door, which was either a good thing or a very very bad thing. Alfred shuffled up as close as he dared, then froze. The door was slightly open, and he could hear voices floating through. He squinted through the opening and tensed. Ivan was in there! Alfred pushed the door open, and held out his gauntlet threateningly.

“Hands up or I shoot!”

The scene that met him wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Like, at all. Lili Vogel sat on a wicker seat, petrified. Ivan was holding a tesla pistol, but not at Lili’s head - at Arthur’s. The slim, scowling figure on the other side of the cabin was frozen halfway to grabbing a lamp off a bedside table, but was now looking at Alfred in surprise. Now that the love potion had (more or less) worn off, Alfred could now see Arthur for what he really was. Handsome, yes, but not attractive - his eyebrows were too bushy, his nose too hawkish. For a second they stood silently, staring at each other in a mexican standoff. Then, quicker than Alfred could take in, Arthur had leapt across the room and had cleanly disarmed Ivan before he could flinch. Ivan swung at him but Arthur was already out of reach, gun aimed on him. Lili stared at everything with wide eyes, mouth agape.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Alfred cried. Arthur glared at him.

“Are you thick?” He sneered.

“I’m going to kill this idiotic bodyguard, then I’m going to kill you. Brilliant kiss, by the way. Thought it would keep you out of the way but clearly, no luck.” He said with an extremely irritating smirk. Alfred scowled like a schoolchild as Ivan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Bodyguard?” Alfred echoed. Then a tiny bit of sense finally wriggled into his brain.

“Put the gun down, asshole! Your kissing was shit and so is your face!” He declared, pointing his gauntlet threateningly at Arthur. This would have been a threatening gesture if Alfred hadn’t accidentally fired it. With a quiet click, smoke started to curl out between his fingers. Arthur stared at him in a mixture of disdain and amusement. Then he looked back to Ivan, standing in front of the terrified Lili Vogel protectively.

“Bye bye, Braginskey.” He said with a smile, and fired.

“Oh, fuck it.” Arthur muttered. A coil of crackling electrical smoke drifted up out of the pistol. Seemed like Alfred wasn’t the only one with weapon trouble. Arthur threw the pistol out of the open window, and shrugged.

“I don’t need it.” His lips curled into a devilish smile. With an angry growl Alfred threw himself at Arthur. The lithe man easily dodged his roundhouse punch and before Alfred knew it he was on his back and winded, staring at the ceiling as he struggled to breathe. He rolled over onto his stomach and had to shove himself to the side to avoid Ivan’s boot crushing his head. Arthur and him were locked in combat, Arthur diving and dodging through the large cabin to avoid Ivan’s fists. Alfred heaved himself to his feet, then gasped as Ivan stumbled backwards into him. He fell to the ground heavily, then grimaced as Ivan’s weight hit him.

“Get off me!” Alfred complained. Then everyone froze - except Lili, who had been frozen well before that moment. There was a swift knock on the door.

“Everything alright?” A huffy voice asked. Arthur swooped over to Lili and grabbed her in a choke hold.

“Yes, thank you!” He said with disturbing cheeriness. Ivan opened his mouth but Arthur tightened his grip on Lili, who was squirming and kicking but far too weak to escape his clutches. Ivan staggered to his feet, and pulled Alfred up as well. Plodding footsteps announced the exit of the nosy parker. Arthur slowly backed away towards the window, dragging Lili with him.

“Let go of me! Please! My necklace, take my necklace! It's emerald. Just let go of me, let go!” Lili cried, her sweet voice trembling. Tears streamed down her porcelain face. Ivan wiped blood off his chin.

“Don’t you dare hurt a single hair on her head.” he growled.

“You’re outnumbered. Let her go, and I’ll keep the asskicking to a minimum until you’re handed over to the police.” Alfred said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. Arthur winked.

“Outnumbered? I don’t think so.” Still firmly holding onto Lili, he pushed the window open. Alfred became aware of the sound of galloping horses.

“Oh, god, he’s got his whole scrawny posse here.” He complained. A horsedrawn carriage came into view, a masked figure with long hair holding the reins. Another figure stood on the roof of the carriage, arms outstretched.

“It was wonderful knowing you two, but I must dash.” Arthur said apologetically. With a great heave, he threw Lili out of the train.

“No!” Ivan and Alfred yelled simultaneously. Lili screamed as her frail frame was tossed through the air into the arms of the unknown villain on the carriage. Ivan lunged at Arthur but he too was out the window, landing impossibly gracefully onto the carriage.

“Adieu!” He cried, bowing to the furious russian and thoroughly confused american. With the crack of a whip, the carriage veered away and melted into the darkness of the night.

 

“We have to go after him!” Ivan insisted, pacing furiously. Alfred was on the cabin’s bed, staring at the ceiling and occasionally glancing back and forth really fast to see if he could align the purple blobs in his vision with the chandelier above.

“Not my problem anymore. This job was too hard - I’ll just take the deposit and never go back.” Alfred muttered. Ivan glared at him.

“You’re full of stupid, american values.” He said it like ame-ree-can.

“You don’t have any loyalty. You’re just in it for the money!” He continued. Alfred sat up indignantly.

“So what if I am?” He protested.

“It’s not like we’d be able to save her anyway. Arthur and his little asshole friends are off into the desert, probably to get to an awaiting blimp. Just give up! Go home!” 

Alfred said. Ivan regarded him coldly. Then his facial expression changed.

“No…. No, there is no blimp. This desert has a natural phenomena where the wind is extremely turbulent, starting around ten metres from the ground. They can’t escape on air, so they’ll have to do it on foot. And that means they’ll be heading towards the nearest town - anything else is suicide with a horsedrawn carriage. They’ll be in Tartucket.” Ivan said with conviction.

“That…. was pretty smart.” Alfred said with raised eyebrows. He looked out the window. The sky was going red, but the sun wasn’t above the horizon yet.

“Well then, amereecan, pack your things. We leave this train when the sun breaches the horizon.”


	7. Leap Of Faith

“That’s your plan!?” Alfred cried. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes in exasperation, then rammed them back on his face. He shook his head and sighed deeply.

“So let me get this straight.” He muttered.

“We just casually jump off the roof of the train, walk into Tartucket, and ask around?!” He tried not to screech in frustration, but it was hard when Ivan was staring at him blankly.

“Do you have a better plan?” Ivan asked. Alfred gaped at him.

“Yes! How about I just leave! I’ll go north, you go save the lady, let’s pretend we never met!” He proposed. The heat, despite the sun not being up, was slightly uncomfortable. He wished he’d chosen a cabin with opening windows. As it was he had to console himself with using a book as a fan.

“You’d really allow a young woman to be murdered or used as blackmail?” Ivan asked with a definite condescending air.

“Well, mister high and mighty, I’m so sorry that I put my own life before others. I’ll go live as a monk for the rest of my life to make up for that.” Alfred said, his voice dripping with venom. Then he sighed.

“Alright, whatever. But I’m not staying for your soft hearted reasons, I just don’t want to get killed when my employer finds out I failed.” He conceded. Ivan sniffed, tinkering with his tesla pistol.

“You were sent to assassinate me, weren’t you?” He asked. Alfred nodded sulkily. After a few moments Ivan stood up.

“I won’t take it personally. We don’t have much time until the sun rises. We should get onto the roof.”

The sun was peeking over the flat horizon, dying the sky red and orange. In the distance, a small town was washed orange in the morning light. Alfred glanced at Ivan. The broad-backed man looked so sure of himself, in scarf and long coat. A satchel was slung over his shoulder and rested on his hip. Alfred wondered how he was surviving in the hot weather. His lavender eyes looked melancholy as he stared out across the arid landscape.

“So… How are we supposed to get to the ground without breaking our legs? I’d rather break my neck trying to roll out a window.” Alfred asked, breaking the silence. Ivan smiled slightly.

“You’re not going to like this.” He said, pulling something out his satchel. In his hands were two thin pieces of metal, shaped like the bottom of a shoe and with ring-shaped circles on one side.

“Hoversoles? Are you insane?” Alfred gasped as Ivan calmly pressed the metal soles onto his boots. They stuck there like magnets and hummed slightly.

“You… You don’t have two pairs.” Alfred said hesitantly.

“Well, I didn’t know you were going to be here, did I.” Ivan replied, exasperated.

“So either you can piggyback down, or break your legs, or stay here. Your choice.”

“Cowabunga!” Alfred howled, the space between him and the ground steadily growing smaller. It had taken a fair bit of self-persuasion to scramble onto Ivan’s back, but now he was having the time of his life. They hurtled through the air, the train whistling past. Just before Ivan slammed into the ground, the hoversole’s humming became louder and he was pushed upwards. It felt like when you had two magnets trying to push each other away, except you were one of them. Ivan careened sideways and Alfred’s eyes bulged out of his head as he almost got decapitated by the side of the train. Bobbing frantically, Ivan fought for balance as he hovered mere centimetres above the ground.

“You’re choking me!” He gasped. Alfred looked down to realise his arms were tight around Ivan’s neck.

“Sorry, dude.” He apologised, loosening his grip. They were still zigzagging slightly at breakneck speed across the desert, but Ivan seemed more or less in control of the hoversoles. Until, of course, the one on his left boot popped off. Instantly they lurched to one side and Alfred couldn’t help but screech as Ivan veered left. Ivan leaned back and they slowed down, but it wasn’t enough. The other hoversole made a horrific grinding noise and popped off as well. Alfred let go just before Ivan fell over. Ivan landed on his feet but instantly pitched over, rolling head over heels twice before he came to a painful stop. Alfred was less lucky, hitting the ground on his side and being scraped along for several metres. Fortunately his gauntlet protected his arm from becoming a bloody mess. Unfortunately it didn’t protect his face.

“Alfred. No, don’t try to get up just yet.” Alfred’s head spun. It was like the time he’d eaten cheese that had gone off, except that time was less painful. One side of his face stung, the other just felt hot. Something warm and salty was on his lips. Maybe it was cheese. As his eyes slowly blinked open, Alfred discovered it wasn’t cheese. He squinted, looking up at Ivan. Ivan’s cheek had a large scratch in it and his scarf was ripped. Alfred reached up to his face and touched his lips. His fingers came away bloody.

“This isn’t cheese.” He said softly, confused.

“Alfred, we crashed. You hit your head but you were only out for a few moments. Stop moving, you’ll feel worse.” Ivan demanded. He gently untied the bandana around Alfred’s neck and used it to clean up the blood on his face.

“That was a really dumb idea.” Alfred murmured.

“I should have stayed on the train… Maybe I could run away to Kentucky…” He continued, then paused. Why did Ivan look fuzzy? He put his hand up to his face.

“Ivan, where the fuck are my glasses?” He asked worriedly. Ivan looked around, then plucked the missing spectacles from the ground. One lens was slightly cracked on the side, but otherwise they were fine. Alfred immediately perched them back on his nose with a relieved sigh.

After Alfred was more or less cleaned up, they sat in the shade of a large boulder as Ivan emptied his satchel. Spare power cell for the non-operational tesla gun, a small tin box of spare parts, a picture of Ivan between two women, and a compass with a crack in the glass.

“What’s the photo of?” Alfred asked, leaning in to see what the objects were. Ivan picked the faded photo up.

“They’re my sisters.” He said protectively. He gently put it into his pocket. Alfred picked up the tin box, no bigger than a pencil case, and popped it open.

“Yes!” He cried, pulling out a regulator. Ivan examined the compass as Alfred fiddled with his gauntlet.

“Compass is broken.” He muttered, putting it back into the satchel.

“There!” Alfred cried triumphantly, holding up his gauntlet. The metal was scuffed and dented, and the fingers were a bit stiff, but slowly the little red light on the wrist lit up.

“We are back in business!” Alfred announced, flexing the fingers of the gauntlet. Ivan quickly put his belongings back into the satchel.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked, eyeing Alfred’s face. The left side of his face was covered in scratches and bruises, with a particularly nasty one dangerously close to his eye.

“I’m fine!” He said with a grin, and stood up. With a grunt he then keeled over and put his hands on his knees.

“Give me a second, I’m fine.”

 

Walking to Tartucket was not as easy as it seemed. Although Ivan gauged it was only half an hour away, Alfred’s aching limbs meant the going was slower, although rather funnier. Every few seconds Alfred would trip over something, be it a small rock or bush. Then he would grumble something about ‘stupid idiot plans’. He would pull a face whenever Ivan glanced at him.

“Stop smiling.” Alfred huffed. Eventually they made it to the outskirts of the dusty settlement. Crows perched themselves on bone dry fences, watching people come and go with beady eyes. Alfred looked at Ivan.  
“So… now what?”


	8. Card Games

The main road of Tartucket was wide and dusty. Alfred and Ivan had to dart between horses as they wandered cautiously, eyes peeled for any sign of their adversary. On both sides were rickety wooden platforms in front of equally rickety wooden shops. Alfred speedwalked over to the platform and sighed in relief.

“Let’s go straight for the sidewalk next time.” He muttered.

“This appears to be a saloon.” Ivan said, peering into the grimy windows of the shop in front of them. The peeling red paint and splintered door certainly didn’t scream 'the ritz'. Alfred adjusted the bandana around his neck.

“Perfect.”

The doors to the saloon were far squeakier than Alfred had expected, which made their entrance a lot lamer than anticipated. He forced a smile on his face as the town’s amassed population of potbellied drunkards stared at him with blank faces.

“Howdy.” He said, tipping his hat. Ivan shuffled in behind him, murmuring something in a foreign language. Alfred got the feeling that the only reason he wasn’t being murdered was because of the terrifying aura given off by his scarf-wearing companion. At least shady saloons meant information sellers. He sauntered to the front and leant his elbow on the scuffed wooden bar.

“Tanglefoot for me and a cactus wine for my friend here.” He said with a smile to the bronzed man at the counter. The bartender was muscular and even in the dim lighting, the scars lacing his hands were clearly visible.

“Don’t order for me.” Ivan grumbled, sitting down on a barstool and looking around furtively.

“Cheer up, a bit of rotgut won’t kill you.” Alfred punched him lightly on the shoulder, froze, then relaxed when his gauntlet didn’t fire. Ivan gave him a deathly glare, causing him to freeze up again with a sheepish smile.

“I’ll, ah, go ask around about miss vogel.” Alfred slipped away, jamming his thumbs in his belt.

 

“Well, howdy.” He pulled out a seat and sat at a table of grunts playing cards. They looked at him with disdain and continued playing.

“I fold.” A particularly brutish man growled, his bald head glistening. Alfred rested his arms on the table.

“I hope I’m not intruding on your game, fellas, but I’m looking for a bit of information.” God, his skin was crawling. There was nothing worse than talking to people who didn’t like him. And these sweaty bar rats had no time for an upstart like him.

“I’m looking for a mister Arthur Kirkland.” He noted the sharp glance the bald man gave the man opposite alfred. This man gave off an air of importance and leadership, his silver stetson keeping his face in shadow. He looked up and his eyes glinted a shrewd grey. A mechanical monocle hovered in place in front of his left eye.

“What’s it to you, huh?” He asked, his voice low and raspy. The voice of a chainsmoker.

“I have business with him.” Alfred responded shortly. Silver Stetson raised an eyebrow.

“A pipsqueak like you? I don’t think so. Jimmy, want to escort this gentleman to the exit?” He intoned, barely saying it like a question. A gaunt man with a bushy moustache pushed his chair back and started to stand up.

“I know about his affairs with a miss Lili Vogel.” Alfred said, grasping at straws. Silver Stetson raised a hand. Jimmy shot back down into his seat.

“Alright, I’ll give you a chance. Win a round of texas hold ‘em, and I’ll tell you where he is.” Silver Stetson offered. Texas hold ‘em. Texas hold ‘em? What the fuck was that? Some sort of poker? Alfred’s stomach dropped. He’d always meant to learn how to play poker, but he’d never had the motivation. He smiled thinly.

“I’ll take that challenge.” He said. Silver Stetson’s eyes narrowed and he rubbed his stubbly chin.

“Alright. Looks like your drink is ready. Go, drink it. You’ll need it.” He smirked slightly. The other men at the table laughed quietly. Heat rising to his cheeks, Alfred stood up.

“I look forward to our game.” Alfred said with another tip of his hat.

“Ivan, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.” Alfred moaned, pouring cheap whiskey down his throat. He coughed as it burned his throat. Ivan sighed, sipping at his own murky drink. He made a face but swallowed the vile concoction anyway.

“Why did you agree? You could have walked away.”

“These guys know Arthur. Or they’re acting like they do. And we need to know where he is. All I have to do is win a game of poker! It can’t be that hard, right?”

“I’ve never played poker. I know the basic rules; you get a certain combination of cards, and the best combination wins. I think. Other than that, I don’t know.” Ivan said with a shrug. Alfred dug around in his trouser pocket and pulled a twenty carbyte coin from it.

“Pay the bartender, ask him about Arthur. And, uh, if I lose, probably best if you get out of here quick.” Alfred said with a wry smile, flicking the coin at Ivan. He caught it deftly.

“I’m not leaving you to be beat up by those thugs.” He replied. Arthur smiled warmly and punched him on the shoulder again. This time, a small zap of electricity hit Ivan, making him flinch.

“Heh, sorry.”

“Go play some poker, you idiot.”

When Alfred sat back at the table, there were a few less men loitering around. Five men, including Alfred and Silver Stetson, sat around the circular table, the air thick with smoke and distrust. The rest of the bar had cleared out quickly, sensing danger in the air. Even the bartender had removed himself from the scene, leaving Ivan alone at the bar, sipping his cactus wine. Silver Stetson smiled slightly, revealing a silver tooth. Was silver this guy’s official colour?

“I’ve failed to introduce myself. C. L. Deadwood, at your service. Call me Deadwood.” He ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Also playing are Jimmy, Rattlesnake Bill, and Deacon. I’ll deal. And you?” His gravelly voice echoed slightly as he motioned towards each player while naming them.

“Alfred Jo- er, Jasper, charmed to make your acquaintance.” He replied, looking at the players Deadwood had mentioned. Rattlesnake Bill was a twitchy but heavily built gunman, with a belt of ammunition across his chest and a mop of black hair. Deacon had a lazy eye and buckteeth - his only threatening feature was the massive scar down half his face. It seemed inflicted by a wolf or bear.

“Well then,” Alfred said with a forced grin,  
“Let’s get this show on the road.”

A pile of dried beans sat in front of Alfred, carrying an aura of foreboding that dry beans really shouldn’t have.

“Three in the pot.” Deadwood ordered, so after watching what the others did, Alfred obediently pushed three foreboding-aura beans into the middle of the table. Cards were then handed out silently. He looked down at the two blue-backed cards in front of him apprehensively. Then he noticed Rattlesnake Bill - what a stupid name - look at his cards. Ah, you could look at them. Made sense. Alfred carefully sneaked a look at his cards. A ten of clubs and an ace of clubs. Great. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? If it were possible to make a question mark into an emotion, that was what Alfred was feeling as he gazed down at his two battered cards. He looked at his opponents. Jimmy’s moustache was quivering, as were Bill’s fingers, tap-tap-tapping on the table. Deacon was glancing around suspiciously and Deadwood just leaned back in his chair, stetson pulled down low.

“Biill.” Deadwood murmured, and Bill jumped.

“I bet three beans.” He announced, shoving three into the middle. Alfred looked down at his beans. How many did he have? A lot, certainly. Was Bill being conservative because his hand was bad? Was it a strategy? Alfred’s anxiety grew.

“Well, mister Jasper?” Deadwood asked.

“Do you call, raise, or fold?” Ding ding ding! Alarm bells. Alfred’s mind raced. Folding meant losing, as he’d seen before. Raising sounded like more beans, and clearly you were meant to keep beans.

“I… call.” He said, crossing his fingers behind his back as he pushed three beans into the pile. The other players seemed satisfied and Alfred sighed internally. Texas hold ‘em was a lot more stressful than it looked.

The game proceeded steadily, every second marching towards the end of the game. Three new cards graced the table - a queen of diamonds, a queen of clubs and a seven of spades. A motley crew, certainly. Alfred wondered what they were for. Again and again they betted, and Alfred’s bean pile grew smaller. He always called, which seemed to agitate Jimmy especially. Deadwood peeled the top card off the deck and placed it aside. Why did he do that? Everything was a mystery and Alfred’s head hurt. Another card was placed on the table. A king of clubs, how nice. Alfred was vaguely pleased at the amount of clubs cards on the table, but unsure what to do with them. What if he was winning, but he did something that made him lose? Alfred’s heart sank. How long would this betting go on for? Then Deadwood put another card on the table. A jack of clubs! Another clubs card! Was this exciting? Was he winning? Alfred made a mental note to learn how to play poker.

“I fold.” Jimmy’s wavering voice muttered. The heavy air grew thicker. Bets were placed. It came to Alfred’s turn. He looked at his beans. Better get it over with.

“I put all of it in.” He said, pushing his beans into the pile. Bill’s eyes widened. Deadwood’s eyes narrowed. Their betting continued, and then they paused. Sharp looks were exchanged.

“Deacon, reveal your cards.” Deadwood snapped. Obediently he showed his hand. Two jacks. Deadwood snorted. He splayed his cards out. A queen of spades and a queen of hearts.

“Four of a kind, Mister Jasper. You can choose not to show your cards to save face.” He said, his mouth splitting into a gleaming grin. Alfred glanced at him disdainfully. Slowly he flipped his cards over.

In the following seconds, Alfred witnessed a man go through several unique emotions. The first look on Deadwood’s face was surprise. Then disbelief. Then anger. Then rage.

“Cheater!” He roared, lunging across the table to punch Alfred. Alfred’s chair fell back and Deadwood landed on top of him, meaty fists swinging at his head.

“Get off me!” Alfred yelled, covering his face with his arms. Then the weight was lifted from him. Ivan pulled Deadwood to his feet and punched him square in the jaw, sending him reeling back. Alfred scrambled to his feet to see Rattlesnake Bill reach for his gun. He stretched out his left hand in a fist, and hoped. A bolt of electricity zapped out of his gauntlet and hit Bill, making him yell and fall over. Deacon swung at him but Alfred dodged, scrambling over the table. Cards went flying and beans clattered to the floor. Alfred picked up an empty bottle from the table next to him and swung it at Deacon. It hit him on the head and he hit the floor with a thud. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen.

“Ivan?” Alfred looked at the russian in disbelief. He held Deadwood up easily, the greasy stetson-wearer's shirt bunched up in his fist.

“I believe this calls for interrogation, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't played poker - Alfred had a royal flush; a ten, jack, queen, king and ace all of the same suit. It's the best hand in poker! I apologise if any of the poker playing is incorrect :0


	9. No Point Beating Around The Bush - Right?

Tell us where Arthur Kirkland is.” Alfred demanded, pressing his gauntlet-clad fist against Deadwood’s chest. Having scarpered from the scene of their tussle, the duo and their interrogatee were behind the saloon, in the shade of the building.

“Like I know.” Deadwood growled back. His stetson had slipped off to reveal a balding head and thin brown hair. He was slightly less menacing with his back flat against a wall with a weapon aimed at his heart.

“You do.” Ivan responded, arms crossed. He glanced around the area, then back at Deadwood.

“You will either tell us voluntarily or electric shocks will be administered. Eventually these can cause skin burns, damage to internal organs and death.” Ivan said coldly. Alfred looked up at him with surprise. He was more cold blooded than Alfred had thought. Deadwood glared at them.

“Kirkland’s staying out of town, in the old gold mine. Don’t even bother, you’ll never get in. It’s guarded and locked, and he doesn’t take visitors.”

“This time he is.” Alfred replied. He backed off slightly and glanced at Ivan.

“What do we do with him?” He asked. Ivan shrugged.

“Knock him out?”

“With pleasure.”

Deadwood hadn’t been lying about there being a mine - a robot outside a store informed them it was half a day’s walk into the desert. Whether Arthur was there was a different matter. After a quick lunch that left Alfred with only forty carbytes in his pocket, they started the walk out of town. As the duo walked through the outskirts of Tartucket, Alfred kept up a mostly one-sided conversation.

“I know you only said you were an astronomer - but do you actually like stargazing?” He asked Ivan.

“Yes.”

“Good, because I love it. It’s really humbling, you know? To look up at those stars and think about how small you are. And despite being so tiny, so unimportant in the grand scheme of the universe, we’re still here. Living on this small planet in this small solar system in this small galaxy, watching the sun set on another day of billions.”  
“You like to be reminded of how small you are?”

“I like to be reminded I exist in the same universe as the stars. And if that makes me feel small, then I don’t mind at all.” Alfred said with a wistful smile. Ivan raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

“You’re strange, amereecan.”

“Bad strange?”

“I never said that.”

 

The path to the mine was old and slowly being reclaimed by the earth. By the time they could see the mine, the sky was going yellow and the sun was creeping towards the horizon. The landscape had changed too. The craggy rocks that had been in the horizon when they left Tartucket were now all around them. They rose high into the sky, brushing its marigold surface.

“My everything hurts.” Alfred complained. His stomach rumbled in agreement.

“Shut up, someone could be guarding the entrance.” Ivan hissed back. Alfred grunted but obediently shut his trap. The path was thin and scraggly, and sometimes it felt like there wasn’t a path at all. He scratched the bridge of his nose and realised how dirty and nicked his nails had become. He probably looked shabby all over.

“Get down!” Ivan hissed, jolting Alfred out of his lamenting. They sank to their hands and knees, veering off the path to cling to the side of one of the massive spires of rock. They edged along it until they were peeking out at the mine’s entrance. Its entrance was carved from an oblong boulder and was shielded by heavy wood nailed across the entryway. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. Cautiously, Ivan stepped out from behind the rock. Alfred followed, quickly losing his sense of paranoia.

“Man, this place is awesome!”

The mine had clearly seen better days. A rusting sign had once proclaimed a name, but now all that was readable was a weathered ‘p’. Alfred perused the thick wood beams that blocked their entry into the darkness beyond. They were placed so close together that he could only see through into the mine through gnarled holes in the wood. Inside, there was light coming from somewhere he couldn’t see. He gave one of the planks an experimental hit. The wood was unchanged and now his hand hurt.

“I found a trapdoor.” Ivan called. Alfred jogged over to where he stood, a ways off from the mine’s entrance. The trapdoor had a small keyhole near its edge, and didn’t budge an inch when pushed, but had clearly been recently disturbed. Ivan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“To open this we need a-” He stopped, looking perplexed.

“A…?” Alfred prompted.

“You know, a, what is the word, uh, lock open…. thing?”

“A key?”

“Da, yes, a key!” Ivan looked rather embarrassed.

“I can’t believe you forgot the word key.”

“Shut up and help me pull this thing open.”

They couldn’t pull it open. Alfred examined the callouses on his hands as Ivan paced back and forth in front of the mine. His hands were red and hot from trying to pull open the trapdoor, and his left hand was hot and sweaty from sitting in his gauntlet all day.

“Every minute we waste out here is another that miss Vogel is in danger, if not already dead!” Ivan muttered, still pacing furiously. Alfred hauled himself to his feet. He was tired, hungry and frustrated.

“No use walking back and forth like a wind-up toy.” He replied somewhat more rudely than intended, and walked off.

After a few minutes of walking, Alfred felt he’d seen all there was to see of the environment he was in. ninety percent rock, ten percent more rock. The odd desert shrub battled for survival against the arid heat, but little else grew. Alfred discovered he’d walked in an arc, and was now behind the mine entrance. On this side it was clear that the mine wasn’t actually carved out of a boulder, but from a small cliff - a smooth incline of rock rose in front of him. He wondered what natural event could have created such a weird, isolated mini-cliff. At the base of the mini-cliff was a dead shrub, brown and kind of depressing. Alfred absently went to pick off a leaf. It stubbornly refused to come off.

“Well fuck you too…” Alfred mumbled with no real conviction. He gave the shrub another tug and to his dismay, the whole branch snapped off.

“What the fuck?” There was something behind the bush. He easily snapped the other branches out of the way.

“Ivan! Come here, I found another trapdoor!”


	10. Tunnels and Tribulations

This trapdoor opened suspiciously easily. Alfred squirmed through the small opening first. There were rungs rammed into the earthen sides going down into darkness. Slowly he inched further into the blackness.

“See anything?” Ivan called down.

“No. How far down do you think this-” Alfred’s foot hit the ground below him.

“-goes.” He finished. Ivan clambered down after him and they stood peering into their dim surroundings. It wasn’t completely dark and slowly their eyes adjusted. They were in a manmade tunnel. Rotting wood beams sagged at the sides.

“Perfectly safe.” Alfred mumbled unhappily.

Progress was slow and nerve wracking. At all times they kept one hand running along the wall to their left. After a few minutes - or it could have been half an hour, time was hard to gauge - a light appeared at the end of the tunnel.

“Wh-” Before Ivan could even finish the first word, Alfred hushed him.

“Do you want to get us caught?” Alfred whispered sharply. Ivan raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply.

They crept towards the light. It was coming from around a bend in the tunnel. Slowly they peeked around the corner.

“Holy shit.” Alfred breathed, ignoring his own advice. The claustrophobic tunnel opened into a cavern, about ten by ten metres and well lit by torches. A horse and carriage stood by a shack built into the wall of the cavern. Opposite the small green building was another opening, larger than the one Alfred and Ivan had come from. That must be the main entrance to the mines, so this was…. What, an administrative area? It didn’t matter. Alfred crept into the open area, stepping over a set of rusting mining cart tracks. He looked above him. Jagged stalactites hung down, threatening to fall at any moment. Ivan gestured to the green shack and Alfred nodded.

They scuttled over to the building and squished themselves against the side. It was rather funny, Alfred had to admit. The horse was watching them with a look of ‘you guys look really stupid, you know that?’

Ivan was close to a dirty window. He swallowed, and shifted to peer through the window pane. He instantly jerked his head back, whole face red.

“What?” Alfred whispered. He raised his eyebrows and made a rather vulgar gesture. Ivan nodded, face going a deeper shade of crimson. Alfred tried not to laugh and made a wheezing hiccup sound instead.

They had more luck looking into the carriage, but now that they knew where Arthur and his companion were (Ivan was still red from head to toe), the race against the clock was all the more anxiety-inducing. They found miss vogel asleep inside the carriage, her hands and feet bound. The carriage door was locked, but with an electronic switch. A zap with Alfred’s gauntlet made it swing open easily.

“Miss Vogel, miss Vogel.” Ivan murmured, gently tugging off the rope around her hands. Alfred made himself useful by guarding the carriage. As he stood and watched the shack, nerves on edge, he touched his injured cheek. He felt scabs and his hand came away with a little dry blood.

“Oi!”

Alfred was so shocked by Arthur’s appearance that for a second he just froze. Arthur’s clothes were still classy, but they were dusty and his hair was messy.  
“Come here you twat!” Arthur yelled, reaching for his gun. Alfred sprang into action. He slammed the carriage door closed and scrambled onto the driver’s perch. A bullet zinged off the wood dangerously close to his head.

“Yee-haw!” He yelled, grabbing the reins. The horse didn’t move.

“Move, dammit!” Alfred wrenched the reins, but still the horse didn’t move. He glanced back. Arthur was only a few metres away, gun aimed at Alfred’s head. He reached out with his gauntlet. clunk!

“Agh!” Alfred howled as Arthur’s bullet ripped through his gauntlet and lodged in his arm. He clutched it close to his body and curled over. He heard the carriage door being slammed open. Vogel’s screaming, Ivan’s yells.

“You said we wouldn’t kill anyone.” A voice close to him. He looked up to see Arthur’s accomplice, a gaunt man with long hair and stubble.

“That was the deal.”

“Well we can’t leave them here! The mining company comes to inspect this place tomorrow, we’ll be in deep shit if Boss knows we left them here.”

“We should drop them off at bandit point. Just another traveller murdered by highwaymen.”

“You and your goddamn conscience, Francis, you’re going to fuck up a heist some day. Killing them now would be so much easier. Alright, whatever, get him in the carriage and tie him up. We leave now.”

“Come here, morceau de merde.” He grabbed Alfred’s upper arm and hauled him to his feet. Alfred responded by swinging at him with his good arm.

“Oof!” The man punched him in the gut, then the face. Alfred keeled over again. Before he knew what was happening he was in the carriage, hands and feet tied tightly together.

“Dammit, he broke the lock.” Arthur’s voice came from outside.

“Solder it closed, we’ll use the other door.” The last thing Alfred saw before he blacked out was Ivan beside him, eyes closed and scarf stained with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "morceau de merde" = piece of shit


	11. you say HUMmus, i say HOOmmus

Alfred did not feel good. He was feeling many things - primarily pain - but ‘good’ was not one of them. Slowly more thoughts appeared other than ‘ouch’. The pain was coming from a few main places: his left arm, his gut, and his face. He was fairly certain he didn’t need urgent medical attention, mainly due to the fact that he could wriggle upright. He did so, slowly letting his vision return.

“Mmhgm.” He mumbled, becoming aware of something in his mouth. Ew, a gag? Gross! He tried to wriggle it out unsuccessfully. It had always looked kind of pointless in motion pictures - the clean gag came off smoothly as the handsome protagonist removed it from the beautiful love interest. In reality, the gag tasted vile, threatened to make him dribble, and made his mouth sore.

“Mmmmhhghggnnmmm!” Alfred tried again, wriggling more. He saw Ivan lying on the carriage seat across from him. His eyes were closed and limbs bound by rope. It was dim in the carriage - the windows had been covered by curtains, and night time must have fallen. To his right was miss Lili Vogel, also bound. She was, however awake.

“Mmghm!”

“Mmmggggghm?”

“Uhuuuhgm.” Alfred tried to elbow the carriage door in anger. His elbow couldn’t reach, making him angrier. It was impossible to talk, or get these stupid ropes off! He sat there fuming for a few moments. Then he noticed Lili was diligently working away at something. Curled in a fetal position, a hairpin was wedged between her knees. In a display of flexibility she was rubbing the seemingly blunt pin on the side of her gag, the part against her cheek. After a few minutes of sawing, the gag frayed and broke.

“pteh! That was positively horrendous.” Lili said indignantly.

“Mmgh!” Alfred agreed.

It took her ten more minutes to get their ropes off.

“How in god’s name did you do that?” Alfred exclaimed, perplexed. Miss Vogel smiled quietly, tucking the hairpin into a pocket.

“Every girl needs a concealed weapon. One side of the hairpin is sharp, perfect for lock picking and cutting fabric.” She explained.

“Where did you learn that?” Alfred asked. Lili’s smile got a little bigger.

“Girl Guides!”

Due to Ivan’s irritating floppiness, it took Alfred and Lili a long while to cut his ropes.

“Ivan, buddy, wake up.” Alfred checked his pulse. Weak, but there. His breathing seemed shallow. Where was his injury? Alfred glanced at Ivan’s coat. A suspicious red mark stained the side.

“Miss Vogel, please look away.” Alfred said as politely as possible.

“Excuse me, mister….” Lili gave an inquisitive glance.

“Alfred.”

“Mister Alfred, I’m not a child. Anyway, Girl Guides teaches first aid as well.” Lili huffed. Alfred shrugged and began to pull off Ivan’s coat.

The shirt underneath was also blood stained. He undid that and inhaled sharply. Ivan’s chest was crisscrossed with old scars, some barely noticeable, others red and long. There was a particularly nasty one on his side that looked carved from a knife. Forcing himself to avert his eyes from Ivan’s marks of previous battles, Alfred looked at his most recent wound. The skin on his right ribcage was red and bleeding.

“I think he’s got broken ribs.” Lili said hesitantly.

“Is that bad? Like, deadly bad?” Alfred asked with a tinge of panic.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so. I can’t remember.” Lili looked on the verge of tears.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Let’s see if there’s anything we can help with.” Alfred said with a smile. Seeing Ivan hurt made Alfred furious, but he had to stay calm for Lili's sake. Lili sniffed, her watery eyes drying.

“Okay…. I’ll help Ivan, if I can. But you have to stop this carriage! They’re going to use me as a hostage to get my brother’s money!” She cried.  
“I will. Don’t worry.” Alfred said in his most reassuring voice. What, bullet in his arm? No big deal. Lead poisoning, a little voice said in his head. Alfred decided to ignore it.

Opening the carriage door was easy; his gauntlet still worked. the bullet had missed the important electronics (and his main arteries). With a sharp zap, the door swung open silently. Alfred clambered out awkwardly. The carriage wasn’t going fast, but they’d never get Ivan off safely. Tartucket was in the distance, lit up like a distant cloud of fireflies.

“No, Francis, it’s not HUMmus. It’s HOOmmus.” Arthur’s irritated voice was close and made Alfred tense up. He could see the back of Arthur’s head, locked in argument. A gun hung by his side - that would be a problem.

Alfred clung half in the carriage, half out, considering the jump from his perch to the driver’s bench.

“I did my research on this one. It’s an arabic word! They say it HOOmmus!”

“I’m not arabic, I’m French. And I say it HUMmus!” Alfred breathed in deeply. With a giant (painful) leap, he pushed off from the door and grabbed Arthur from behind.

“What the- agh!” Arthur yelled in surprise as Alfred clung to him for dear life. Before Arthur could regain his senses Alfred wriggled around and pulled himself onto the driver’s bench. To both of their surprise, he ended up straddling Arthur’s lap.

“Get off me!” Arthur roared. Francis held the horse’s reins with one hand and reached out to grab Alfred with the other. Squashing Arthur against the carriage, Alfred fired his gauntlet at Francis. Zap! Francis was propelled backwards and tumbled off the carriage with a shrieked french swear. Alfred’s gauntlet’s light turned from green to red. Out of power. Dammit!

“Francis! No!” Arthur yelled, squirming under Alfred’s weight. Alfred pushed himself off Arthur by planting his hands on Arthur’s chest. Whoops. In an instant Arthur’s clawlike hand was wrapped around his injured fist, crushing it.

“Ow!” Alfred’s arm collapsed and Arthur easily pushed him off. He grabbed his gun but shot it too early, sending a bullet whizzing into the desert. With a shriek, the horse started to gallop.

“Come here, you piece of shit!” Alfred yelled.

“If you insist.” Arthur growled, crawling over as the carriage bumped and jolted. They slowly stood up, wobbling and glaring at each other, less than a metre apart. Then they were locked in precarious battle. Alfred gritted his teeth, dodging a swinging fist.  
“You’re a pretentious twit!” He yelled over the din of the carriage’s wheels.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” And with that, he hit Arthur square in the jaw.


	12. John Doe

Sometimes, you get into the moment a little too much. It’s understandable, really. Adrenaline pumping, excitement at fever pitch. But then you calm down a little and realise that whoops, maybe that wasn’t the most clever idea. This was the sort of feeling Alfred got as he clung to the driver’s perch, Arthur’s unconscious body bumping and jerking every time the carriage hit a bump.

“Whoa, boy! Slow it down a little!” Alfred yelled at the frenzied horse. It’s white coat was covered with dust and it didn’t look like it had any plans to slow down.

“What’s going on?!” Lili’s voice cried behind Alfred.

“Brace yourself!” Alfred yelled back.

They were approaching Tartucket at an alarming pace.

“Shit!” He ducked as the carriage hurtled under a billboard promoting motor oil. Wood splinters flew everywhere with a deafening crash as the carriage smashed a hole in the bottom of the sign. They were on the main street now, causing pedestrians to run away screaming.  
“Stop, you stupid beast!” Alfred screeched. The horse brayed and went even faster. Oh shit, they were going to hit a shop!

“Turn! Turn!” He howled, tugging at the reins. Finally the horse responded and veered right. Unfortunately, not far enough. With a hideous groan the carriage tipped over onto its side and slammed into the flimsy wall of a store. Crash!

Chaos reigned for several moments. Plumes of dust rose from the scene, obscuring the vision of worried passersby. Slowly the air cleared. The carriage was mostly in one piece, save for two wheels that had snapped in half. The horse was injured but alive - it was hard to miss its frightened cries.

“Did anyone survive?”

“What the hell were they doing?”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Then silence fell. The small cluster of people stared at the carriage, holding their breath collectively.

“Help…” Slowly, a bloody hand rose into view, gripping the side of the carriage. Alfred’s dusty figure came into view. He pulled himself onto the carriage’s side, lying on the window.

“I have to… Have to open this... Got to save them… Miss vogel...” His grip was too weak to open the door. A red haze was filling his vision.

“Ivan….” Slowly his eyes closed, his mind drifting into unconsciousness.

 

★ ★ ★

 

Alfred dreamed. He dreamed of stars, of fragile paper spaceships, of beautiful solitude in the middle of a nebula. He dreamed that he was sitting on the edge of a black hole, his legs dangling into the void. Then someone was in front of him. It was Ivan, but not the one he knew. Bloody tears dripped from black eyes. His scarf was torn and frayed. He opened his mouth. Blood dripped from his tongue and smeared his teeth.  
‘Why didn’t you save me?’

Alfred woke with a jerk.

“Don’t try to sit up, dear. There there.” A gentle hand placed itself on his shoulder. Alfred’s muscles relaxed. He succumbed back to the darkness of sleep.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a week. His dreams were always nightmares. Every time the same dream - bloody tears and torn scarves again and again.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping, or what time of day it was when he woke and was strong enough to get out of bed. All he knew was that he needed answers. he pulled himself out of the hospital bed. Tartucket hospital was rudimentary but somehow calming. He shared the room with an empty bed, its brown covers dappled with golden light filtering in from coloured glass windows.  
He saw on the end of the bed ‘John Doe’ was written in curly writing. His clothes were on the chair beside his bed; instead he wore a light blue cotton shirt and trousers. He put on his clothes (washed and cleaned), picked up his glasses from the bedside table and put them on. One lens was badly cracked. There was a bandage around his aching lower left arm. Slowly he walked out of the small room and into a silent hall. The muted quiet was peaceful but his mind buzzed with questions.

He walked into the small office, all waiting chairs empty.

“Is Ivan Braginskey here?” He asked the rather stumpy blonde scribbling figures on faded paper. She glanced at him and smiled sympathetically.

“You’re awake! How wonderful.” She smiled.

“I’m afraid you just missed him, dear. He left this morning. And in such a state too! I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t have a word of it!” She tutted.

“Did he say where he was going?” Alfred asked, panic rising in his throat. He had to see Ivan again. He had to.

“I’m sorry, dear. He didn’t say.” She said, an understanding look in her eyes.

“He was such a darling when he was here, you know.” She commented.

“As soon as he was able to walk - broken ribs and a concussion, poor dear - he would sit by you as you slept. Do you remember?” Her words were like a spear through Alfred’s heart.

“N-no.” He mumbled.

"He wouldn't tell us your name, either. I need it to fill in the paperwork - I'm afraid you have quite the hospital fee." She said, looking at him expectantly. Tears pricked Alfred's eyes. He'd protected Alfred's identity when he was vulnerable - and he couldn't protect Ivan at all.

"Al- Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. I'll uh, be back to pay that fee. Soon." He said. He wondered why he'd chosen to say that name. He wondered where Arthur was. He turned away and walked out of the office with glassy eyes.


	13. Purple constellations in his eyes

He visited the crash site first. The carriage was gone and repairs were already finished on the wall. The only lingering memory of the scene was half a wheel propped up against the building.

“You’re that fella, aint’cha.” A voice startled Alfred and he whirled around. A lanky man with scruffy red hair sucked in a puff of smoke from a stubby cigarette.

“From the crash a few weeks ago.” He nodded towards the fixed wall.

“Um, yeah, I am.” Alfred responded. He stared at the road, gaze fixated on the shallow scrapes in it.

“You were like some sorta goddamn madman, you know that?” The redhaired man coughed and threw his cigarette away.

“You was covered in blood and still yankin’ at that door. Tryin’ to get that pretty lady out, werent’cha?” He said with a smirk.

“Do you know where she went?” Alfred asked, suddenly consumed by guilt. He hadn’t spared a single thought for Lili all day. The man shrugged.

“Some rich guy lookin’ just like her came in a few days ago, rode her away in one o’ them fancy hovering carriages.” He said in a bored tone, fishing another packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. So Lili was safe - presumably the man that looked like her was her brother.

“And - the man that was with her? Do you know what happened to him?” Alfred asked hopefully. The man shot him a look.

“Think I know everything? I ain’t heard nothin’ about him. Got a match?” He stretched out a bony hand.

“No. Sorry.”

Alfred wound up in a hotel’s saloon area. A different one than the one he’d played poker in, thank god. It was smaller but less dingy. Alfred figured it was mid afternoon, too early for saloons to really have customers, which explained the emptiness of the establishment. He had no money left in his pockets - perhaps that nurse wasn’t as benevolent as she seemed. He sank down into a chair near the back.

Ivan had left. Ivan had sat with him, kept him company through his nightmares. And then he’d left without even waiting to say goodbye. Why did thinking about it hurt so much? Alfred folded his arms and rested his head on the table. Maybe he just wasn’t worth waiting for.

“Alfred?”

 

★ ★ ★

 

His heart skipped a beat. Alfred stood up and whirled around.

“Oh my god, Ivan, your face.” He said in shock, then went pink. Ivan’s face had a long scar running down the side, almost reaching his jaw. But it was Ivan. Ivan, kind of beat up looking, limping a bit, but it was Ivan.

“You’re not all sunshine and roses yourself, amereecan.” Ivan said with a smile.

“I thought you’d gone.” Alfred said, tears building in the sides of his eyes.

“What? No, you idiot, I left to get a hotel room. Sleeping in that hospital bed was hurting my back.” He said.

“I couldn’t protect you.” Alfred suddenly blurted out. He remembered back to seeing that dark red patch on Ivan’s side. It hadn’t been so real, then. It was just part of the adventure. But now the adventure was over, the injuries were too real. It was like putting your hand on a hot kettle - it didn’t hurt for the first split second, and then suddenly it burned like hell. The tears in his eyes escaped, dripping off his nose.

“I crashed the carriage and you could have died and I’m not heroic, I’m stupid and if I hadn’t been here you could have protected Lili better and I- I-” He trailed off, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. Ivan’s big, gentle hand gripped his shoulder gently.

“Look at me, Alfred.” Ivan said. Alfred looked. His kind, purple eyes said it all. He forgave him. He’d never blamed him. Then the kind, purple eyes were closed. Then they were kissing, soft caresses mingled with happy tears.

There wasn’t much in the world that confounded Alfred. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head in any situation. This matter, however, was different. This was love.


End file.
